Star Wars: Amusingly Melodramatic Title Goes Here
by Tiana Calthye
Summary: Within a warped galaxy, two Jedi set out to return their library books to the Isenation Federation, settle a treaty over overdue fines, and save the galaxy from crossovers if Cry Gon Annin can stop her Padawan, Tify Wan, from destroying herself first.
1. A Quest To Return Library Books

**Disclaimer: **OCs that may or may not appear are my own. Anything else belongs to Lucasfilm and or Tolkien. Steal my ideas and you will burn. Or not.

**Warning:** Any content within that causes your head to explode or coffee to erode your computer monitor because you spit it out from shock is your own fault for taking it to an actual reaction point.

**Another Warning: **Inspired mainly by Jandalf's _Insanity Prevailing_ and Yoda Clone's _Paint Wars_-- plus some random chattage with mentioned Orange Jedi Master. Be very, very afraid.

_You are warned. Here there be dragons._

**---Star Wars: Amusingly Melodramatic Title Goes Here---**

_Chapter One:_

A long time ago in a galaxy not particularly far away, at least if you had borrowed Bill and Ted's _excellent_ phone booth and knew the phone number necessary for the time travel needed, there was a couple of random Jedi Knights. Well, one was a Padawan, but that was unnecessary knowledge at the moment, thus bringing about the need to burn the reader at the stake or interrogate them for being spies.

BUUURRRN!

Anyway.

These two particularly noteworthy Jedi lived in the galaxy that was a long time ago and not particularly far away. It was actually in the same location as one Terra, merely a long time ago, to give credit to George Lucas. This, of course, meant that it contradicted with Middle-earth, and there were a bunch of random paradoxes that occurred and caused the continuum to blow up.

These two unnamed still Jedi did have a purpose, of course, besides randomly appearing to advance the plot that hasn't yet taken shape.

Why?

_DO NOT QUESTION ME, I AM THE NARRATOR!_

Gah! Readers! The two Jedi were Cry-Gon Aninn the Purple and Tify-Wan Munobi. They were on a remarkable mission of remarkable and incredible importance to the fate of the galaxy... that's right.

They were off to return their library books to the Isenation Federation before they were charged with the three million credit overdue fee per hour!

"Gah!" the younger one suddenly stressed. Though she looked remarkably older than her Master. Or the other way around.

What do you know about it anyway? Huh? HUH?

"Gah, Padawan?" the potentially older one asked, proving that she was indeed the older with her choice of title.

"Gah!" she repeated. "The hyperdrive motivator unit isn't going to bring us there in time."

"Then, Padawan, do the math and figure out exactly how many credits we will owe the Isenation."

"Math!"

"Yes. Math."

"But MOOOMMMM... um. Master."

"No whining," her Master ordered.

"Aww..."

"Stop whining or I _will smite you where you stand!_ And do the math!"

Tify-Wan folded her arms and muttered random curses that were both unnecessary to the plot and caused her Master to force her to eat a bar of soap and cut her tongue out. Somehow in the meantime, she managed to get a cybernetic tongue and carry on muttering.

"X equals negative b plus or minus the square root of negative b plus 4ac all over 2a," she said randomly. Which actually made some sense, if you were looking for the quadratic formula.

"Padawaaaaaaaaan."

"Master, we're about to drive through an elsewhere and elusive space ship approximately three point two eight meters in front of us," Tify-Wan pointed out.

Cry-Gon Aninn attempted to react in time. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough, and they drove through the space ship causing the unfortunate and purposeful explosion of several cookies which made absolutely no sound as they were in vacuum. This temporarily knocked off the blockade on returning library books, and all of the Naboo-Shire folk were glad.

The Jedi Master used the Force to levitate their books into the return slot. "Aha!" she yelled triumphantly. "They are back!"

Tify-Wan folded her arms and muttered again.

"What was that bet, Padawan?"

Tify-Wan scowled, and handed her Master a pack of gum. "Fine."

"Hah!" Cry-Gon pocketed the gum. "I told you we'd get them back on time."

They were unfortunately and conveniently dragged in by a tractor beam, reminding the two of the more pressing mission at hand.

"Gah!" Tify-Wan yelled. "I told you it was elsewhere and elusive. I have a bad feeling about this. It's a conspiracy! Why do WE always have to get into things like thi..."

"Padawan. Shut up. Now."

"You're using excessive punctuation on me!"

"Yes. And if you don't quit whining and otherwise ranting, I will personally steal the keyboard from the narrator, and write you into a more fitting character other than an insertion as Obi-Wan."

"Gah."

"Yes." Cry-Gon folded her arms. "And that's not an idle threat."

Tify-Wan Munobi gazed out of the window at the shimmering stars far beyond the horizon of Naboo-Shire, and suddenly shivered as a stirring swell of the Imperial March began to drum away forebodingly and otherwise doomish. "You know, Master, I _do_ have a bad feeling about this."

"Yes, well, this isn't the time. We're about to fly into an Acme Disintegrator Gun."

"**_WHAT_**!" she yelled, though the text should've been about 28 times larger than shown.

Cry-Gon proceeded to go deaf. "What?"

"I said 'what' with several attached exclamation points and question marks."

"WHAT?"

"I just SAID what!"

"Speak up, Padawan!"

"GAH!" Tify-Wan pulled out a set of cybernetic ear drums and installed them somehow without time proceeding to move forward at all. "Master, get a life."

"That's it, you're grounded!"

"Awww."

"And stop whining."

"But..."

"And... why don't you just stop talking while we're at it? We're about to be disintegrated."

Tify-Wan nearly repeated the previous experience with rather large text and exclamatory marks, but remembered in the nick of time that it would make her Master go deaf, and the plot otherwise slow down for random unnecessary additions. So she didn't, and comforted herself with the fact that she was a self-insertion of one of her favorite characters. All the while panicking, of course.

"Can I panic?"

"No. Think rationally, Padawan."

"Can I have my gum back?"

In the meantime, Cry-Gon Aninn was busy piloting their shuttle around extensively random appearing Tie-fighters and having a deadly space battle with several buzz droids that were attempting to drill their way through the hull, hissing things along the lines of _give us the Ring... _A few seconds later, she swerved dramatically through a loop of laser shots and sent the ship twirling up seconds before it hit an energy shield. "No!"

"Why not!" Tify-Wan whined.

"BECAUSE I'M BUSY!" Cry-Gon yelled.

Tify-Wan suddenly looked outside the portholes and realized they were in the middle of a raging and dramatically deadly space battle. "That's strange. It's not suppose to start with a battle."

History became legend... legend became myth...

"I still want gum..."

Cry-Gon leaned over and sealed her mouth over with a piece of duct tape, and locked her Padawan in place. She sent the ship into a tight loop, whirling in to shoot at the shield generator that blocked the one place they could land aboard the sinister looking battle ship, and opened a comm. "This is the Republic ambassador!" she yelled. "You fire upon an unar..." She glanced down at the lasers. "Well. Rather armed transport..."

Dodging another shot, she whirled up and around again. "Don't shoot, we come in peace!"

"Jeedai fools," the comm growled.

"I'm an ambassador and a WIZARD!" Cry-Gon yelled. "Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! I've already returned my library books!"

"Oh, well, in that case..." Suddenly all the Tie Fighters vanished, and all shields were lowered. "What do ya want?" the comm voice growled.

"We're here on a diplomatic mission concerning the blockade. We wish to board at once."

"Mpphph mrmrprmmm phmm!" Tify-Wan added.

Cry-Gon sighed, and reached over to rip the duct tape off of her Padawan's mouth.

"OW!" Tify-Wan covered her mouth, sounding remarkably in pain.

"Stop complaining and shut up."

There was a few random buzzes from the comm unit, a snicker or three. Then the remarkably evil sounding voice spoke up again. "This blockade of library books is... perrrfectly evil... I mean... legal. Of cooourse you're velcome aboard..."

"Dracula, is that you!" Tify-Wan asked, peering suspiciously at the comm unit.

There was a series of random and annoyed cursing. "Curses! You veren't suppose to figure me out! Curse you! CUUURRSEEE YOUUUUU..." It suddenly cut off, and the two Jedi exchanged nervous glances.

Cry-Gon was the first to recover. "Well."

"Well." Tify-Wan nodded.

"Shall we go in?"

"I think so."

The comm sputtered back in. "CCCCCUUUUUUURRRRRRSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEE..."

BEEP!

Cry-Gon blinked.

Tify-Wan snickered.

"What's so amusing, Padawan?"

"I have no idea."

Cry-Gon peered at the comm suspiciously. "How do you know Dracula, Padawan?" she asked with a hint of suspicious irony to her voice.

Tify-Wan hid a bottle of catsup behind her back. "Oh..."

And don't you dare say he was in your grad class. You know that's not your job.

"Fine." Tify-Wan sulked.

Besides, you're not graduated yet. And stop whining and sulking. You're starting to remind me of a Skywalker really, seriously, badly. I'll have to reinsert you as Tiphnakin Whinywalker instead.

"No!"

Then stop it!

"Fine!"

Cry-Gon looked remarkably confused by this point. "Padawan, who were you talking to?"

"The narrator."

"Riiiiight..." The Jedi Master was suddenly tempted to phone up the men in white coats.

"Anyway. Dracula was in my crèche class."

"He was a youngling with you?"

"Yeah," she muttered.

"Dracula was a Force-sensitive?"

"Yeah..."

"You were friends?"

"Sort of..."

The Jedi-Wizard-Master-Diplomat-Whateversheis narrowed her eyes. "You weren't his girlfriend, were you?"

"No!" the Padawan yelled.

"Oh. Well. Just checking."

The comm buzzed again. "You know, you were told you could land about five minutes ago."

"No, we weren't," Padawan Tify-Wan said logically, ignoring a vicious glare from her Master that was icy enough to potentially out freeze Hoth, or at least cause a snowstorm on Tatooine. "You only said that we were welcome aboard. Nowhere was mentioned that we had to come on bo..."

She was cut off as Cry-Gon slapped another piece of duct tape over her mouth, and took the comm. "Of course, we'll be right there," the Jedi Master said calmly, and signed out, reaching over to rip off the piece of tape yet again.

"**OW! THE AGONY!**!" Tify-Wan wailed, missing bold on the last exclamation point as she gave up on wailing and touched her mouth gingerly, wondering if she would ever be able to eat again.

Cry-Gon pursed her lips, and steered the ship in while her Padawan panicked and attempted to find a way to put the little hairs that grew around her lip in. She was busy attempting to put little tiny pieces of glue on the nearly invisible hairs and stick them back to her red skin (in a little square shape around her mouth) when they landed.

"Padawan."

"Pphppmpmpmpmhhph gggmgmg?" Tify-Wan asked thoughtfully.

"Huh?"

Tify-Wan grabbed a datapad and scribbled on it: _I glued my mouth shut_.

"Padawan, I can't read English."

Tify-Wan moaned, and rewrote it in Aurebesh.

"Ah." Cry-Gon nodded. "Good."

Her Padawan shot her a vicious glare that was nasty enough to kill, had the option for gazes to kill been there. Unfortunately, all it could do was look particularly nasty.

Cry-Gon sighed, lamenting the fact that her Padawan _had_ to be able to talk, and wretched her mouth open.

"OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Tify-Wan fell over, wailing about pieces of her mouth being where they didn't belong.

Cry-Gon gave her 1.000000002132 seconds to recover, then tossed her her robe and lightsaber. "Get up. We're going now, and I don't mean to return," she ordered.

"Master?"

"Oops... wrong movie."

**-That's all for now! Please review POSITIVELY... unless your head blew up before you could-**


	2. In Which Things Explode

_**Master Darth Warious:** Heh heh heh... pain in the neck... I know that one well. You know why dragons are extinct? They got the hicups. And NOW... I finally update! Snrk._

_**Audreidi: **Bwhaha... yes, you'll get your cameo as Janorum... and others. (cackles) And, of course, you knew I was updating..._

_**Mousewolf: **Yes, it was odd. (snrk) It was suppose to be odd..._

_**Hadriel: **I'm not a physics major... I was just copy and pasting that. (shrugs) If I get bored, I'll edit it, but for now... TO ALL READERS, MY QUADRATIC FORUMULA WAS WRONG. Tify-Wan needs to learn that it is _x (-b +- (b2-4ac)0.5) / 2a. _Anyway. Thank you for your choice to call it genius... I'm touched. (grins) _

_**Chapter Two:**_

As you probably would like some randomly irrelevant background information by this point, the Isenation Federation was an evil Federation ran by several annoying creatures that had been aliens in Lucas's original interpretation of the galaxy far, far away, but in the narrator's mind became random rips of random evils from various other movies and books. Because she was lazy to come up with anything better than having Sauron, Morgoth, Agent Smith, Dracula, and several other random evils make cameo and potentially important appearances in the story. And because she couldn't think of anyone she knew to rip names from.

Their original goal had been to subdue the people of Naboo-Shire with overdue library book charges and gradually rule their people through subliminal messages within the text of every single book or datapad they borrowed or lent out.

No, I don't know how they did it. Invisible ink. I don't know! I'm just the narrator! The characters have to figure it all out later anyway.

They were funded by an evil Dark Lord known as only one name (as the Imperial March swelled): The Dark Lord. Otherwise known as Sauron, but that was completely beside the point. He had also forged the One Ring To Rule Them All, and had an incredibly evil plot to rule the universe alongside of his brother-in-law, Darth Sidious.

Oops.

That was a bit ahead of things.

Nevertheless, if you were curious as to the fate of the **ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL**, it was in Naboo-Shire. Obviously. Where else would it be? Unfortunately, as Naboo-Shire was, at the moment, under the control of a library book blockade, it was relatively useless to mention it.

Nah.

There was a point. I'm just not going to tell you.

Needless to say, aboard the evil and sinister looking ship that floated in space to complete and utter silence and visibility of really cool lights completely lacking because they were in vacuum, there was a Dark Lord. Sauron, of course, as he happened to be the stupider one. And because the narrator felt like it.

Even though he wasn't suppose to be there.

Within the ship, of course, the cool music that couldn't be heard in vacuum because... oh, go find your own science lesson. Ah. Anyway, the cool music COULD be heard. And, of course, it was the Imperial March. Several Tattle Droids were marching around and tattling on each other in time to the Imperial March.

A small, sleek shuttle flew in and landed. Unfortunately, as not all carbon based lifeforms decided it would be smarter to wait out of the airlock, they were disintegrated, and the Tattle Droids ran off to tattle on the ship being the demise of several unseemingly tall people.

The ship landed with a silent hiss that was only implicated through text for the sake of melodrama, and folded upwards. The airlock was sealed off, and the hum of shut down sequencing could be heard.

A little astromech droid wheeled in to clean up the dead lifeforms and was struck by lightning.

He blew up, but it turned out the dead life forms weren't particularly dead yet. They stood up and hit their heads on the roof, falling unconscious.

Five minutes later, two black robed and hooded figures disembarked from the ship with much melodramatic theme music stirring in the distance, and causing the Dark Lords within to shiver. Even though there was only one.

_How come I never get theme music?_ he mentally complained.

Because you already have the Imperial March. Don't think I like you that much yet.

He folded his arms and sulked.

Skywalker.

Needless to say, within the airlock, the two dark robed figures were led to a waiting room by a shiny silver elf. Half elf.

"Quarter elf, and I'll be happy. If he has curly hair," the slightly taller of the two robed figured murmured.

The elf gave her an odd look, but unfortunately he didn't fit the specs that the slightly taller (one inch) than the other robed figure wanted. Namingly, dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, pointy ears, and tall. Because that character didn't even fit into this timeline, let alone plot.

The elf left them with a couple random plants, and wandered off to do his job. Particularly, get the Jedi alcoholic drinks so that they could be convinced to leave without trouble and then apprehended for drunk driving.

Once the tall, blond haired, and pointy-eared elf had left, the two Jedi pushed their hoods back simultaneously. Unfortunately, someone had waxed the floor, and Tify-Wan fell over and into one of the flower pots.

Cry-Gon spaired a moment to help her one-inch taller Padawan back to her feet, and left her to brush purple dirt off of her robes.

No, I don't know why it was purple either.

"Master, I have a bad feeling about this," Tify-Wan said, finally taking off her robe and setting fire to it. She was amused to watch it go up in smoke and flames, leaving a trail of char on the floor.

Cry-Gon sighed. "Stop saying that. Something bad will happen."

Her burning robe exploded and threw them both across the room.

A few moments later, the short Jedi Master stood back up. "As I said!" she exclaimed.

"But it's elsewhere! Elusive!"

"Do not tempt fate!" Cry-Gon ordered, brushing herself off.

A spair thread of the robe that hadn't burned yet exploded, and threw Cry-Gon into a flower pot.

"Gah..." Tify-Wan sighed, and offered her Master a hand.

The flower decided it was hungry, and swallowed Cry-Gon's robe whole.

"Gah," Tify-Wan repeated for good measure.

Cry-Gon pulled her staff out of her pocket and proceeded to beat some sense into the robe-eating flower, sending purple colored liquid splattering across the room in strangely symmetrical patterns that looked remarkably like Ewoks.

Then the flower exploded, and sent the Jedi Master-Wizard flying across the room once again, this time in slow motion, allowing her hair and robes to flicker around her and strange screaming noises to be drawn out painfully as the narrator mused about why her Padawan aged characters always seemed to have a Jedi Master-Istari Master.

Oh, yeah.

Cry-Gon hit the wall, and fell back to the ground, leaving a Jedi Master shaped dint in the wall, and a wizard shaped dint in the floor. No clue how that works, of course. She stood up and shook her head.

"Look at it this way," Tify-Wan supplied helpfully. "If we get into a duel with a random evil lightsaber wielding dude, we won't have to disrobe before we attack them." She ran her fingers through her hair and sat down.

Cry-Gon reached up to fix her hair which was, at present, trickling purple smoke.

Tify-Wan snickered.

The extensively random elf walked back in with a tray of extensively dangerous and possibly poisonous looking beverages, ignoring the violet colored smoke dissipating from the remarkably short yet not hobbitish Jedi Master's head.

"No, thank you," the Jedi Master politely declined, passing off the oddly colored drink.

Tify-Wan took a deep breath. "Do you have ale? You know that the chemical properties of the variations of otherwise alcoholic and potentially chemically strained to the point of possible implosion on behalf of the purpleness of the strange smokes that emit from them when brought to the point of suffocation can possibly bring around detrimental and otherwise decimation of carbon based lifeforms when faced with the inopportune moment to injest or possibly be forced into accepting into their blood streams and thus bring about the doom of human kind!"

The elf stared at her with eyes the size of dinner plates.

"You can have my drink," she said helpfully.

"Ooh!" he finally said, and grabbed both of them, guzzling them back.

Five hours later...

The elf in mention was collapsed in a flower bed, mumbling about overdue library books, a quest to decimate mankind, and purple CD cases with yellow polka-dots.

"Do you really think that was a good idea, Padawan?" Cry-Gon inquired of her Padawan, the mentioned Padawan who was running around with a Sharpie marker writing her name on the wall in weird looking cursive writing and drawing cartoonish looking pictures of the Dark Lord Sauron with an arrow through his head and crossed eyes.

Cry-Gon stared at the graffiti for a moment before removing the pen from her Padawan's possession.

Tify-Wan sulked.

"Padawan, that is not becoming of you."

Tify-Wan continued sulking.

The Jedi Master ignored her, and carried on. "Is it really in their nature to make us wait this long?"

"I guess so." Tify-Wan pulled another marker out of a conveniently appearing cupboard and wandered off to write more insulting litanies on the wall that would more likely become her epitaph in a few days if the evils in mention got a good look at them, and figured out who had been the one to draw the obviously unappealing images.

The Jedi Master sighed, and sat down to meditate, or whatever it is Jedi do when bored.

Fifty-eight years later...

Cry-Gon died of old age, and Tify-Wan Munobi wondered if she should get her haircut.

Unfortunately, as they were our two main characters, we have to rewind time and ignore the above statement.

So. Fifty-seven years, 11 months, 30 days, and 20 hours earlier...

"I get the oddest feeling that this is going to be the death of me," Tify-Wan commented.

"Padawan, if you keep drawing Sauron madly in love with Arwen, it will be."

"Master, that's Agent Smith."

"Whatever." Cry-Gon closed her eyes again.

"Master, aren't I suppose to be mindful of the future?"

Cry-Gon opened her eyes to peer at her Padawan with icy blue eyes. "Wherever did that come from? Of course you should, but not at the expense of the moment. The future can distract."

"Are you thinking about the now?"

"Yes."

"You might want to think about the future, Master."

Cry-Gon gave her a suspicious glance. "What are you up to, Padawan?"

"Nothing, but there's a bomb behind you set to blow up in three... two... one..."

"WhaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAA**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**...!" She was cut off by the ticking explosive sequence of **DOOM!** Cry-Gon jumped out of the way a second too late, and was thrown across the room in a brilliant shower of purple and green sparks.

**_SPLAT! _**

(Just envision it about 28 times larger than that, and purple)

Her hair started smoking yet again.

Tify-Wan folded her arms. "A message to all readers. Smoking can cause lung cancer, and you will cough a lot. Thank you, that is all." She bowed suprisingly gracefully, and the screen went blank for 0.11111111112 seconds.

Then it came back on and Cry-Gon's hair was still smoking with violet smoke, and standing up on end.

Tify-Wan started laughing, and the Jedi Master sighed. This was going to be a long mission...

Until Tify-Wan suddenly exclaimed, "Gah! It's a conspiracy!"

"Padawan?"

"I HAD A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS!" she yelled, and caused all inhabitants of the ship within a radius of 28 meters to wake up and wonder who was screaming.

"I am aware of that."

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US!" she yelled.

"So...?"

"THEY'LL DO IT AGAIN!"

The two suddenly looked around warily, hands on their weapons.

In the meantime...

"Surely they must be dead by now," Grand Moff Tarkin said in all his overpowerfulness.

Darth Vader breathed menacingly.

"Eat. Dead Jedi, good stew," an orc grunted appreciatively.

Another orc agreed loudly that Jedi feet tasted far better than droid-flesh and maggoty bread. Several more echoed this opinion, and they all looked expectantly at Darth Vader. The mentioned Dark Lord in question fled.

For some strange reason, the room in which the two Jedi were in suddenly billowed up with smoke. The orcs watched expectantly, hands on their weapons. As a footfall suddenly sounded (mindless of the fact that five minutes ago a lot of screaming and explosive sounds had happened.) the orcs drew their vibroswords expectantly...

And a drunken elf stumbled out of the room, a purple rum bottle in hand. "(hic) But... (hic) It came in pints... (hic)..." He fell over and knocked over an unfortunate droid who had been standing too close to the door. The droid fell apart, and Grand Moff Tarkin started weeping about his mother.

The orcs shrugged, took up their swords, and walked into the foreshadowing mists of all evil and **DOOMINESS!** Two glowing blades appeared within the mist, slashing outwards to incapacitate all the unfortunate creatures.

"DECAPITATE!" an extensively randomly convenient grammatically correct wizard who had been randomly conveniently nearby yelled. She vanished in a puff of orange smoke and powdered juice.

The narrator admitted to having read Jandalf's _Insanity Prevailing_ for inspiration and pleaded guilty to the momentary insertion of a character most certainly not her own. She also wondered why the strange appearing insertation didn't think they would've been incapacitated AND decapitated. Certainly they would've been both, considering things...

The two Jedi, who had somehow managed to come up with new robes extinquished their lightsabers, spairing the despairing Grand Moff not a glance as they ran off to wonder why they had even came in the first place if they weren't going to get to debate and ambassador things like they had been hired to do.

"WAAAAIIIIITTTTTT!" Lord Sauron cried, running up to them, huffing and puffing.

Tify-Wan hid her straw house.

Cry-Gon blinked yet again. "Yes?"

"You can't leave now!" he exclaimed. "Not yet! We haven't even had a nice discussion about this blockade of ours! And you have to stay for tea! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE ON MY OWN! It's just not FAIR!"

Tify-Wan stared at him, dumbfounded, for a second, and reached out to pull his helmet off.

"Hey!"

"Luke!"

He vanished in a sudden poof of green smoke and random insane cackling.'

Tify-Wan sighed.

Cry-Gon pulled out a copy of the script. "Don't worry, Padawan, we weren't suppose to have any negotiations take place anyway. We're suppose to stow away on a ship and get down to the surface of Naboo-Shire where we meet up with a conveniently annoying Gungan named Zak Zak who'll actually be human to further the plot, but mainly because the narrator doesn't feel like writing an alien creature at the moment."

Tify-Wan blinked. "And you blame me for runon sentencing?"

"Yes. I do."

Tify-Wan sighed.

A Tattle droid ran up behind them. "You can't do that! I'm going to tell my daddy about that! He'll SIT on you! DADD..."

He was cut off by a green energy blade through his internal programing chips. This, of course, served quite nicely to shut him up with no side effects beyond a pile of scrap metal. Cry-Gon debated for a moment whether this would work on her Padawan, but decided a pile of dead humanoid bones wouldn't particularly service as well as scrap metal.

She extinquished her blade, and, holding that and her staff on hand, wandered off to locate a good enough place to hide.

Tify-Wan shrugged, and followed after her, seeing nothing else of merit to do besides scribble graffiti on the walls concerning Darth Vader's father.

She debated this for a moment, and decided that was more worthwhile than risking her life by facing an army of Tattle Droids, pulled out a green Sharpie marker, and began scribbling graffiti about Darth Vader's heritage on the wall.

Cry-Gon Aninn ran back and dragged Tify-Wan off to much distressed wailing about how Padawans no longer had any rights. Strangely, no one heard them, even though Tify-Wan managed to pass the decibel level of a small jet plane.

* * *

Of course, they didn't go _completely_ unnoticed. (though, strangely, the screaming did)

A droid of the protocol make strolled into the bridge. "There is graffiti on the walls," the droid reported, getting a bucket of water and soap to take care of the Sharpie marker. The Dark Lord Sauron and his cosort of the moment-- Legolas-- set up a vidlink to check out the graffiti.

Sauron stared in horror at the graffiti. "I'm not in love with Arwen!" he exclaimed.

"I believe that's Lord Elrond," Legolas mused. "But that's wrong..."

"No, that's Agent Smith," Sauron murmured thoughfully, and glanced at the drawing of him with an arrow through the head. "What is _that_! What in blazes is going on down there?"

The protocol droid's washing was cut off by a glowing green blade. The two glanced at each other.

"Have you ever encountered a Middle-earthian before?" Legolas inquired.

"Well, aren't we both Middle-earthia..."

"No, I mean a _Middle-earthian_."

Sauron gaped. "A what?"

Legolas sighed. "An agent of the crossover continuum."

"What?"

"A person who exists as an operator within a crossover universe in which canon is destroyed and a parody is formed as well as paradoxes."

"Huh!" Sauron, by this point, was staring with eyes as wide as pancakes. Big pancakes. Not the little ones made out of the little tiny bits of batter that you and your younger siblings always demand, even though they're too small to fill anything bigger than a mouse... of course, you couldn't tell underneath his helmet that this was the case.

Legolas sighed. "Have you ever dealt with a Jedi Knight?"

"Well, no, they don't exist in Middle-earth..."

"Exactly."

Sauron stared down at the blond elf with a rather dark gleam in his eyes, and found panic suddenly swept over every inch of his being. "Seal off the bridge!" he ordered to the nearest droids.

"That will not be enough," Legolas said grimly.

Sauron shivered as the doors slammed shut before them: a swift sweeping hiss, and the blast doors were sealed shut.

"I want destroyer droids up here at once! None of those tattle-tail tattle droids!"

"I'm going to tell my daddy!" the nearest tattle-droid whined, and ran off, hitting the wall with a sudden _thud_, and falling apart, legs still kicking and screaming.

"Whose idea was it to use that slave boy's personality for a generator anyway?" Legolas growled.

Sauron backed off into a nearby closet but jumped out upon discovering Dracula hanging from the coat rack within, grinning with gleaming teeth. He wondered how often he brushed. "Uhh..."

"We will not survive this," Legolas said darkly. "It is our destiny." The blond elf gazed at the sealed off doors.

"When did you become a pessimist?"

"When I learned that I was doomed from the start."

"Close the _rest_ of the blast doors!" Sauron commanded, and all the nearby attendents scurried to obey the tall and kitchen blender armored Dark Lord of Middle-earth. There was a slow growing hiss as the doors obeyed the command mindlessly. Doors weren't sentient, of course, and had no fear of the fact that they would be cut in half in a few moments by lightsabers.

Of course, no one ever asked them whether they minded either.


	3. Meet Jaymidala and Zak Zak Minks

To my dear reviewers:

**Jandalf: **Heh... Danian, yes... (grins) And this time I'm not updating three minutes ago. Because if you were up and online at this time, I would have to tell you to go to bed rather impolitely, see? Heehee. Here's your more...

**Warious: **Wow, the second lover of the tea scene... snrk. My nice whiny Sauron/Danian... no, don't ask who Dane is. He's not someone you'd know of. But yeah... thanks for reviewing me! And I can't remember if I ever did get to reviewing you now... blast. Too tired.

**Duncariel: **Painful, yes. That was generally intentional. I still can't believe you're naming your cat Tify-Wan... hide the sharpies, yes! (cackles) So fune... yes, fune. Brother in closet... huh. I don't have a closet. I have a wardrobe!

**---Chapter Three---**

On the other side of the sealed off blast doors, Cry-Gon was busy melting the doors with her lightsaber and Tify-Wan had another Sharpie marker, coloring the walls with graffiti about how Sauron's mother was an orc and his father was a Hutt and his mother-in-law was a Tusken Raider...

"Padawan..."

Tify-Wan quickly drew her lightsaber to dismantle a nearby tattle-droid. "Sorry, Master."

"What are you doing with that paper?"

She glanced at the drawing of her lightsaber, and put the marker away. "Using it as a weapon, Master."

"What do you expect a drawing of a lightsaber to do anyway?"

Tify-Wan shrugged. Strangely, the piece of paper had dismantled the droid. Perhaps it was allergic to paper cuts.

Suddenly two convenient destroyer droids rolled up. As it was, no Jedi had ever managed to destroy one of these droids, so the two had to flee, unfortunately. "It's a standoff!" Cry-Gon yelled, grabbing her Padawan's arm, and hauling her away from her newest Sharpie-marker artwork.

"But we haven't even negotiated anything!"

"You think they'll listen with those _flattering_ images gracing the halls?"

"I'm glad you think so, Master."

Cry-Gon shot her a withering glare, but for once Tify-Wan seemed to have some focus, if to nothing more than staying alive for a few more pages of the story.

As they dashed off into the mist with silvery blades shining in the fog and bright beams lancing towards them...

The scene ended. Hah hah!

* * *

"A transmission from the planet."

Legolas turned to face the tall elf. "Then we receive results," the blond elf murmured, snapping the viewscreen on. It flickered for a moment, the image clearing to show a tall darkhaired king surrounded by relatively useless body-guards, there solely for the purpose of looking impressive. King Jaymidala was far more powerful than any pathetic bodyguards anyway.

His garb was dark and ordinate, the young king's air reeking of power and control.

"Your highness." The elf bowed, shooting his kitchen-blender armored companion a glance to do likewise. Sauron followed suit a few moments later, though reluctantly. He had the strangest feeling about this King Jaymidala...

"Your orc-faceness," Jaymidala shot back.

Legolas raised one perfectly formed eyebrow.

Sauron was tempted to smite the narrator for making the elf seem so overbearingly prissy.

"Your boy... uh... bookcott of library books has ended. No longer will you charge us fees of remarkably ridiculous funds when we can't even reach the space station to return them! We will keep the books instead!"

"I was not aware of any such settlement within the Senate."

Jaymidala tightened his glare. "The Senate is useless, weak! Join with me, and toget..."

The transmission abruptly cut off to heavy static. Sauron and Legolas turned to face each other. "If the Naboo-Shire folk have began to do things outside the approval of the Senate, we must act fast to cut off their communications with the outer world," Legolas said, bemused.

"Then we act." Sauron ordered an unfortunate underling to flip the switch to scramble transmissions, but a nearby orc was hungry, and decided to eat the underling's arms.

Legolas sighed. "He assumes far too much."

"He?" inquired the orc with his mouth full.

Legolas reached out and slapped the orc. It fell over into a pit of acid and was devolved into millions of molecules and atoms within seconds, causing the end of humankind as we know it, because in that time millions of bacterial cells completed their lifespan and died. The elf sighed.

By this point, Sauron had freaked out about the gore on the button, and had to order a full system shutdown before they could end the transmissions from Naboo.

On a blue flickering hologram, a tall young woman with black hair gazed at the King and his grouping of bodyguards and various other politicians. She was Senator Caspatine, the Senator for Naboo on Coruscant. Unlike most of the other Naboo-Shire folk, she happened to be remarkably tall as well. "How can this be? I have assurances from the Chancellor... negotiations... di... ake... mus..."

The holoconnection flickered abruptly, and cut out.

King Jaymidala looked up from his library book. "Oh? Did I miss something?"

Captian Jenaka sighed. "Check the transmission generator! I want all men on this case _now!_"

A few seconds passed before everything was reported as A-okay, and the Captian sighed once again.

"Does this mean no more negotiation?" Jaymidala asked, attempting to look like he didn't appreciate this, but his eyes flickered with a lust for battle.

"No, your highness, you may not skewer the elf," Rob Bibble ordered dryly.

He folded his arms.

"Nor may you poison them, skin them alive, or drop them into a boiling pit of acid or crocodiles or lava," he added as an afterthought. "Though the idea of negotiation is rather useless now; we've lost all communications, and the Chancellor's ambassadors seemingly got sidetracked."

The King shrugged. "Then I can keep their books."

"They will not withhold an attack, your highness."

"Great!"

The Captain and Governor moaned. "Our people do not have the army resources to defend the entire planet, your highness," Captian Jenaka said softly.

"Then we can hit them over the head, and, if that doesn't work, scream," Jaymidala said wisely.

"They will bring earplugs."

"So, take them out!" He fingered the lever leading to a crocodile pit and both leading characters backed away nervously. The King grinned wickedly, and suddenly Jenaka and Rob Bibble were wondering if he really was on their side.

"Your highness..."

"We are not without resources, Captain." He fingered a ring worn on a silver chain around his neck. "Most certainly not without."

* * *

In formation above the planet of Naboo-Shire, six landing craft whirled through the atmosphere in a typically soundless motion. Of course, once they reached the atmosphere and oxygen level of the planet, there was sudden sound that burst through the silence of what had once been vacuum. As it wasn't vacuum now, though, it didn't really count to call it that. After all, it was air. Real and breathable air, at least if you were able to tolerate the low pressure of very high altitudes. And as that was unlikely, one could suppose it didn't exactly count as breathable air without a mask on.

Needless to say, in the time spent ranting about whether the air had been breathable or not, the ships reached the surface, slicing through the perpetually gray twilight of one side of the planet. One by one the Isenation ships landed in an eerie swamp in which much creepy and possibly foreshadowing theme music echoed.

However, the moment of triumph and mystery was cut off by the whiny high pitched voice of a tattle-droid overtop the whine of landing ships. "I want my mooommmmmmmmm..."

It was cut off by a sharp squeal of metal against metal, and a clatter of old parts to a soft ground.

A nearby duck took interest in the spectacle for about five seconds, honked amusedly, then took off after an unfortunate frog-like creature. The frog like creature ended up on the lunch menu for the duck's children, and life went on on Naboo as relatively normal as a planet under a Library Blockade could.

The duck was distracted from its task of dismantling the frog's inner body parts, however, when Tify-Wan's head popped out of the lake, breaking the otherwise crystal clear calm. It dropped the frog and took off in a honking fit before swooping back to grab its dinner (hey, who says galactic ducks aren't carnivorous?) and flapping off into the air.

The remarkably wet Padawan took a few deep breaths, choked on a mouthful of swamp water, and proceeded to spit it into a nearby fish's face when trying to get it out of her mouth without slipping. Unfortunately for her, she ended up slipping anyway, and fell into the lake.

Luckily for her, she was already completely soaked, so this did nothing to alter her appearance whatsoever, beyond injuring her ego slightly.

Not so far away from where the slightly odd Jedi Padawan floundered about in the small lake, a hologram of Legolas and Sauron talked to one of the higher ranked looking tattle-droids, who, at the moment, wasn't whining. Which was all in all a very impressive thing.

However, it was attempting to appear like it had everything under complete control, and that wasn't such a good thing.

"...And there is no trace of the Jedi. They may have gotten onto one of your landing crafts," Legolas said.

_Good_, Sauron thought, grimacing underneath his helmet in memory of the lovely graffiti that had adorned the walls of the Isenation ship. Of course, as it hadn't all yet been cleaned up, it wasn't particularly a memory, but instead cold, hard fact.

Legolas threw him a brief withering glance, and the Dark Lord wondered if perhaps the elf could read underneath his kitchen-blender styled helmet.

"If they're down here, sir, we'll find them," the tattle-droid stated. Then it's voice took on a suddenly far more whiny tone. "And we're not meeting any resistance here! Those stupid Naboo Hobbits aren't even _try-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-ing _to stop us! It's no _fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-un..._ we don't have to blast _any-y-y-y-ything-g-g-g-g..._"

"That's a _good_ thing," Sauron snapped.

"But it's no _fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-un_," the droid whined.

"Tough luck," Legolas growled, and cut the connection.

* * *

Not too far away, but further away from Tify-Wan than the droids, Cry-Gon jogged through the forest, staff clutched in hand, lightsaber in her other hand. Inwardly she was rejoicing that her Padawan wasn't nearby to bother her by making stupid comments at the worst times, and tempt fate at even worse times.

Of course, she was unaware by even thinking that things were all right she was tempting fate, and the narrator was plotting an otherwise evil and untimingly demise for her. Of course, not _yet_. No... not yet...

As if she had heard, Cry-Gon glanced up and shot a withering glare at the narrator. "Gee, I love you too," she said sarcastically.

Thanks.

Cry-Gon sighed.

The trees rustled evilly. Had someone listened a bit closer, they would've heard old Entish within the whispering branches and the uneven twists of the wind. They might have also noticed the trees yawning— complete with teeth. Fangy teeth. Large and woody teeth...

And the Jedi Master-Istari looked like it might go well with catsup and a bit of pepper...

Unfortunately, the fangy toothed tree in mention that was about to chow down on Cry-Gon Aninn was suddenly bowled over by a rather large droid transport. It suddenly found itself with first hand knowledge of what it felt like to be kindling. About three weeks later, it would find itself actually playing the role of kindling out to full when a troop of Gungan Guides were taught by a handmaiden in training how to light a fire in a soggy environment. It worked too, amazingly.

However, even though the remarkably vicious tree was out of the way, there was still a rather large orange and purple camouflage streaked droid transport barreling towards Cry-Gon with all malicious intent. Multiple animals fled in a rush of panic, wings biting into the air, hooves smacking the ground, and paws brushing branches in a flurry to escape. The air was suddenly rancid with terror, crackling with the animal's desire to escape as if lightning had struck.

Like the wind, Cry-Gon decided it might be a good idea to join them, grabbing the hem of her tunic as she dashed into the trees.

However, her nose made sudden friendship with the ground as she found herself dashing into a slightly fishy looking human with a computer in hand.

"Noooooo!" he cried as his copy of KotOR bounced off into the swamp. He was completely unaware of the doom headed his way as he dove into the path of the transport to attempt to save his CD-ROM.

Jedi senses and training kicking in at the last second, Cry-Gon grabbed him and threw him to the ground, dropping a second before the transport would've made a new, improved, Jedi style hood ornament out of them. Mud splattered up onto the Jedi Master's face, however, she decided a little bit of muck was less important than her life.

For a moment her thoughts flared back to her Padawan, and she wondered if Tify-Wan would have thought that wisely.

Then the incredibly awful colored transport was gone, and she stood up, brushing what muck she could off of her face. The human jumped up, grabbing his computer, and hugging the Jedi Master while trying to keep the mud from penetrating the hardware.

"Are you brainless!" Cry-Gon asked, frustrated. "A computer game isn't worth your life!"

"Hey, I can talk..."

"So can my Padawan..."

The boy blinked.

"Er, I mean..." Cry-Gon pulled a copy of the script out of her pocket. "Lessee... get killed... nope... droid ship explodes... nope... get burnt to a crisp when they cremate me... nope..." She carried on flipping through, then suddenly stopped, flipped back. "They're going to _what_ me! Oh, blast it! That's it! I'm going to contact my agent! I don't want to be cremated... I _demand_ to at least be buried at sea..."

The boy blinked. Again.

Cry-Gon coughed, put the script back.

"I play computer games?" he offered.

"The ability to game and speak haxX0r or g4m4r sp34k does not make you intelligent. In fact, far from it. Now get out of here, or something!" She turned to stomp off into the swamp, discovered a patch of rather slimy mud, and fell over backwards.

The boy ran over and helped the Istari-Jedi Master back to her feet. "I'm Zak-Zak Minks. And I'm going to come with you because I owe you a lifedebt and you have a cool staff."

Cry-Gon sighed. "We'll see just how long you can last with my Padawan nearby."

"Is she cute?"

It was then Cry-Gon's turn to blink. Unfortunately, as at that moment two large droid things and Tify-Wan (lightsaberless) ran out of nowhere in particular, she didn't get a chance to try to say anything either in favor or disdain of her Padawan's appearance.

"We're gonna die!" Zak-Zak exclaimed wildly. "I'll kill them all!"

Cry-Gon pushed him backwards, ignited her lightsaber, and deflected a volley of blaster bolts that would've otherwise fried the human (for convinence's sake) named Zak-Zak. At least, she thought he was human. She wasn't too sure about the pointy ears and furry feet.

The Jedi deflected enough bolts at the droids that they blew up in a dazzling display of brilliant colors. It also toasted a nearby tree and three mayflies.

Tify-Wan slumped against a tree, and stared at a leaf for a while. "Sorry, Master," she grumbled. "The water fried my lightsaber."

"She's _hot_," Zak-Zak noted.

Tify-Wan glared at him. "I'm your _sister_."

"I am!"

"Well. In reality, anyway. Besides, you're not the love interest in this story anyway."

Zak-Zak sighed, and went back to rewiring his computer game. Cry-Gon took the moment to give Tify-Wan a censuring glance. "You forgot to turn the power off, didn't you?"

"Well... no..."

"Then what _did_ you do?"

"Er... I tried to seal it with gum, Master."

Cry-Gon moaned, a painful expression on her face. "Right. Of course. Well, recharge it, and _don't_ try that again."

Tify-Wan sighed, and nodded, hooking the saber up to one of the downed droid's power sources, which conveniently served the narrator's purposes. She pointed over at Zak-Zak with her other hand. "Who's he?"

"A local," Cry-Gon grumbled. "And c'mon." She shot Tify-Wan a glare as she realized her Padawan had a sharpie marker, and was scribbling on one of the droid's fallen forms. "No time for that. We have to go before more show up."

"But I LIKE explosions," Zak-Zak complained.

Tify-Wan unhooked her lightsaber from the droid, and put the sharpie back in its respective pouch on her utility belt. "Yeah, right."

"I could take you to a convenient city near here where I grew up but was unfortunately banished from," Zak-Zak offered.

"A city?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, great. Convenience," Cry-Gon observed. "Lovely. Padawan, did you know they were planning on cremating me?"

Tify-Wan blinked at the complete change of topic. "Er... no, Master."

Cry-Gon nodded. "All right. Let's follow this completely pointless plot device that will otherwise bring about the doom of the galaxy."

"Er?"

"You see, because we have Zak-Zak in our party, he effects the Senate enough that... oh, never mind..."

Tify-Wan proceeded to look very confused. A nearby bird proceeded to ram into a nearby droid, knocking the droid into the swamp with a loud splash that disturbed two mating fish.

"We'd better hurry," Cry-Gon added, grabbing her Padawan's arm, Zak-Zak's arm, his computer, and somehow keeping her staff and lightsaber on hand as well.

"But they'll do terrible things to me back there!" Zak-Zak complained.

"Oh, don't worry," Tify-Wan said consolingly. "You're a plot device, and it's a conspiracy. I'm more likely to hurt you than they are now."

"Oh, and _that's_ reassuring... you're my sister!"

"That means I'm allowed to do terrible things to you, right." Tify-Wan allowed a malicious grin before her Master dragged her off towards the swamp, and shoved the computer-addicted Zak-Zak into the lead.

_Review me, please!_


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